


4 Times Piper and Alex Were Inevitable

by FreshBrains



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Community: femslashex, F/F, First Love, Heartbreak, Hopeful Ending, POV Piper, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times before Litch and once after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4 Times Piper and Alex Were Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alexandria (heartfullofelves)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/gifts).



> The first three times are dated on a total guess based on their canon relationship. And since we don't really know when they might get out of Litch due to creative license to keep the show going, I just gave a totally random date for them to meet again after prison.

_June 2003_

“Alex, I can’t run any faster than this,” Piper says, heart hammering in her throat as she’s tugged along the tarmac like a ragdoll, Alex’s fingers laced through her own. “I’ll sprain an ankle.”

Alex turns, hair whipping around her neck in an inky waterfall. “Ditch the heels!” There’s a group waiting at the private plane, all dressed in sweats and hoodies, waving bottles of champagne. The wind whistles in the air, blowing Piper’s scarf into a brilliant red ribbon in the sky.

Piper could say a million things— _these shoes cost two months’ rent, Polly loves these shoes, I’m not an animal who just_ ditches _her shoes_ —but instead, she crouches into a half-run, half-stumble, clicking open the buckles on the ankle straps of her cork-heeled wedges. Her skirt blows around her ankles; she feels like Marilyn Monroe.

“That’s my girl,” Alex says, throwing her head back as she laughs. She looks like a goddess on the runway, suitcase banging against her leg. It isn’t an official run, it’s a reward this time—all they packed was swimsuits, sunscreen, and travel bottles of UV. Piper can’t even remember where they’re going—Bali, maybe? Somewhere hot and far, far away. “Kick them off, baby!”

So Piper abandons her heels on the tarmac, the hot surface sizzling against her bare feet as they run, laughing, tears streaming from the corners of their eyes.

_This is it,_ Piper thinks in a startling, almost painful moment of clarity, still running. _This is love._

 

_January 2004_

Piper leans closer into Alex, breathing in the musk of her perfume coming off her sweaty neck. The sofa is red suede, soft as butter against her bare legs. The music might be a little too loud, but the drinks are flowing, and Piper hasn’t felt this _free_ in a long time.

“You okay, babe?” Alex drapes her strong arm across Piper’s shoulders, their bodies warm and sticky and perfect pressed together. “Want to go back to the hotel?” One of her styled curls falls loose over her ear; Piper tucks it back in.

“No,” Piper says, her slow, like she’s underwater. She doesn’t do the drugs— _they_ don’t do the drugs, Alex insists—but she’s been drinking for hours and a joint made its way around the throngs of people in the low-lit club. “God, you’re hot tonight.”

Alex just grins and preens, eyes hooded as she leans in for a kiss. “And you’re smashed.”

Piper shakes her head and arches her neck, begging for Alex’s lips against her skin. “I’m just happy,” she says, quiet enough for only Alex to hear. She shifts her legs into Alex’s lap and Alex’s hands immediately wander to her toned calves, black-painted nails scratching lightly on the skin until goose-bumps break out all over Piper’s body. “ _You_ make me happy.”

Hands stilling on Piper’s legs, Alex looks out into the crowds of people dancing, laughing, doing lines. Her eyes are like onyx in the neon lights. “You make me happy too, Pipes.”

 

_December 2004_

“You act like—“ Alex’s words halt as she presses her mouth insistently against Piper’s once more, like she can’t stop kissing her long enough to speak. “You act like I’m a fucking _stranger,_ Piper.” She shoves Piper against the bathroom stall, hands sliding up under her filmy black dress.

Piper squeezes her eyes shut. She knows that if she opens them and sees Alex’s pupil’s dilated, sees the cat-like arch of her eyebrows, she’ll crumble. She’ll go to her knees right there in the bar bathroom and hitch Alex’s leg onto her shoulder, bury her face in the familiar, perfect musk of her cunt. She made a clean break, but this? There’s nothing clean about this.

“God, _say_ something,” Alex says, pressing Piper harder against the wall, their hips already grinding in that perfect rhythm they’d mastered long ago. Her fingers slide into Piper’s underwear, shoving aside the fabric.

“I don’t—“ Piper muffles a groan in Alex’s neck as the familiar, calloused pad of her index finger presses against her clit. It’s so sweet she wants to die; sex hasn’t been like this with anyone since Alex. Not even close. _Two people can’t be like this together and_ not _work out_ , she thinks, grinding her knees together for more friction. _How can I leave this again?_ “I don’t know what to say.”

So Alex just fucks her, hard and fast and quiet in the last stall of the women’s bathroom, and neither of them bother saying anything else.

 

_June 2017_

This isn’t the sort of place they’d choose for themselves. It’s a chain, someplace with weird shots you can add to your drinks and tall tables without chairs. It’s too clean and well-lit.

Piper sets her bag on the counter—her dated Fendi, something she kept at her parents’ place, just in case—and buries her face in her new phone. It’s the little things she’s struggling with the most—getting used to tech again, getting used to _crowds_ again, navigating city streets alone.

“Hey,” Alex says. It’s nothing special; there’s no big reunion moment, no bells ringing in the background, no 80’s slow jams playing over the coffee shop loudspeaker. Alex looks a little heavier than the last time Piper saw her, and she has a wicked scar on her left eyebrow, but she’s beautiful anyways, beautiful and _there_ in jeans a Black Flag tee shirt. Piper wonders where he leather jacket ended up. She’s holding two coffees. “Plain black for me, skinny mocha with no whip for you.”

“You remembered,” Piper says dumbly, taking the coffee. Their fingers brush against the cup’s cardboard, and _that’s_ when Piper expects to hear the music, the bells, the angels, the whole damn choir singing out for them, she expects time to freeze around them, for everything to fade away until it is just her and Alex.

Until it will _always_ be just her and Alex.

But instead, the world keeps turning. Their hands touch, and this time, Piper doesn’t let go.


End file.
